Sweet Vanilla
by The Freaky Butt Mate
Summary: [Drabble] [mm] A freezing cold night. Steve's room. Left alone. With Steve. Even more highly recommended against. Especially when vanilla muffins are involved. [SteveDarren]


- - - -

**Sweet Vanilla**

**- - - -**

It was freezing.

I had a singlet, two shirts, a jumper, and Steve's blanket wrapped around me, and yet I was still _freezing._ I swear, every breath I took puffed up before me in little foggy warm clouds.

That wasn't normal.

My teeth chattered.

"Turn on your heater."

Steve looked up from his comic book. He was sitting on the floor, while I was up on his bed, curled up to try and trap the warmth within the blanket.

"Why?" He asked. "It's not cold."

I scowled – he was only wearing a single layer, just a long-sleeved shirt. I couldn't understand it. Here I was, freezing my _backside_ off, and yet, there he was… smiling.

I think it was one of those times that I felt like ripping that smile off his face.

"Are you cold?" Steve asked, putting his comic down slowly and sitting back. He was still smiling smugly.

Yup. Definitely one of those times.

Mutely, I nodded, still scowling.

…I really didn't like the look that came into his eyes.

Oh no.

"I know a way to warm you up…"

Oh. Bloody. No.

I was too frozen to move, or even think for that matter. One minute, he was on the ground, the next, Steve had leaped up and pressed me onto the bed, his hands pushing down on my shoulders. His movements were so quick that it was almost scary. He was like a cat of some kind, possibly even a leopard, though I'd never seen a real one before, so I couldn't really compare the two.

"Steve…!"

…Okay. No. _Not_ again.

He had closed his eyes. Leaned forward for the kill.

Right. That's it.

With a growl, I reached up, gripped his shoulders and rolled over with everything I had. The next thing either of us knew, _I_ was the one on top, my hands holding him down. Steve looked mildly surprised.

I just glared.

"_No_," I said firmly. "You are _not_ kissing me again."

Steve smiled.

The door opened.

"Boys, I baked some vanilla muffins, did you want some…?"

Pause.

"Never mind."

The door shut.

I stared, dumfounded, at the door. Mrs. Leonard had just… And then she had just… Had she…?

"…the hell…?" I blinked.

Below me, Steve squirmed slightly, still smiling.

"This is interesting," he said, quite matter-of-factly. Never mind the fact that his mother had just walked in on us! Never mind the fact that I was straddling him over the hips! Never mind the fact that I was freezing cold! Sure, that wasn't strange at all! Just – _damned_ - interesting!

Steve squirmed a bit more, and I looked at him. His smile turned decidedly… _evil._

"Do you realise what you're sitting on?" He asked.

I blinked.

There was a strange, hard sort of uncomfortable _thing_ below me.

Realisation dawned.

"Oh _God_ no…!"

I went to slide off, but forgetting I was on a single bed, I ended up slipping off the side of the bed. Time paused as I teetered over the edge, caught between keeping my balance and falling off completely. With movements lightning fast, Steve's hand snaked forward and gripped my wrist – then, with a quick, deft flick, he had pulled me back onto him. Before I knew it, his other hand had gripped me in a trapping embrace, while at the same time my face raced forward and met his, almost perfectly. That is, if you call 'two guys lips meeting' perfect.

For some reason, Steve seemed to enjoy it – I could feel the smile in the way the kiss was shaped, which is kind of an odd feeling. I, on the other hand, found it quite painful – I had just had my face smashed into his, my eyes watering from the ache in my nose.

There was something different about this kiss, though, different from the ones before. It seemed somewhat more… trained. Better. Nicer. Sweeter. For a split second, a slice of what could have been jealousy lanced through me. Who else had he been kissing, to get so good at it !

…Oh dear lord.

Still pressing his lips to mine, his tongue subtly snaking through my useless barrier, Steve rolled us over so that once more he was on top, trapping me under his weight. That uncomfortably hard _thing_ was pressed against me, making me squirm against him, but it didn't work – he was so much _stronger_ than me, so much bigger, and, oh dear lord there goes his hand again…!

And then, finally, it was over. Steve sat up slowly, rolled off the bed, and picked up his comic book, as if nothing had happened.

"Warm now?" He asked.

I remained where I was, breathless. Shocked. Molested. He smiled.

"I'm gonna go get one of those vanilla muffins. Want one?"

But before I could answer, he had slipped out of the room, leaving the door open.

I blinked.

It was freezing.

But now I felt incredibly warm – and so very uncomfortable.

…and I could have sworn these pants were a lot looser five minutes ago!

- - - -

**A.N** …Mwuahahaha!

The reason for my madness (that is, the second story to involve a cake of some sort):

On Sundays, I bake a cake to keep myself from going crazy. While mixing the cake, one has time to think… Thinking of cakes tends to make me think of bakeries, and then bakeries to Bakers Delight, and Bakers Delight to my dear friend Jeremy who works at Bakers Delight, and then to Jeremy's romps/fantasies/ability to make me feel giddy as well.

…Well, that's the reason in a nutshell, anyway.

This week was vanilla cake! SO YUMMY! (And Jeremy smells so nice!)

…Okay, I'm sleepy now. goes to bed

P.S I apologise for Darren's out-of-character-ness. My tiredness and bipolar-ness is getting to my. Sigh.


End file.
